


Cerulean

by CaffeinatedPokedex



Series: Conqueredstuck [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Body Horror, Disturbing Themes, Gen, Petstuck, Reverse Petstuck, conqueredstuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-03-14 22:55:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3428594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaffeinatedPokedex/pseuds/CaffeinatedPokedex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Same universe as my other story, Crimson. This is John's story. Not all humans lived out their lives on ruined Earth until being caught and put into pethood. That's too kind a fate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not for people with weak stomachs. Some chapters will be very graphic/uncomfortable.

You are 13 years and _man_ are you excited about this new game. You’re on your way to the bank right now to deposit your whole piggy bank. Dad said that if you can get your savings balance up to 200, he’ll be so proud of your ability to be frugal, he’ll buy you the game himself.

You don’t really get it, but you are happy none the less. Dave and Rose should be online when you get back home, and maybe Jade will be too! You think you should pick up some milk on the way home, because you may have used it all with your cereal this morning even though Jane planned on baking cookies. Oops. 

She’s cool though, you’re sure she’ll understand if you buy some more and apologize.

Your humming is upbeat and mildly out of tune because you can’t hit all the notes. It’s just such a nice day, and yesterday you got a B+ on your math test- by far your worst subject and the only reason you passed was because Jane was kind enough to help you study for three hours.

You are caught off guard as the wind changes and a newspaper sweeps up into your face. Falling over like a klutz, you quickly whip the paper away and stare dumbfounded up at the massive shape in the sky.

It’s coming closer and fast.

Clutching your piggy bank close and jumping up to your feet, you start sprinting in the opposite direction. Screw going to the bank, you’ve got to warn Dad and Jane! 

Heat rolls over you, singing the hairs on your arms and legs as you hear houses starting to be decimated before your hearing gets messed up. You try to look back to see, only catching a glimpse at the wave of energy completely destroying everything it touches, but start stumbling and return to keeping your eyes in front of you. If you don’t outrun this you’re going to burn up into nothingness.

It’s so loud that it sounds like nothing, you can’t hear the panic of the others running, the houses are just disappearing like a giant author is erasing unnecessary background buildings. You don’t know what’s going on and you’re scared. You’re so scared and your legs hurt so much and breathing is so hard. You are going to die.

The world is becoming blurry as your eyes get hot and wet. You don’t want to die, and you don’t think you will get home in time to warn your family. The destructobeam will vaporize it before you can reach it. 

You are breathing so hard- you don’t think you can run anymore, but your house is just in sight. You have to run almost parallel to the wave that you’ve put quite a distance between to run towards your house.

You were right. You won’t make it in time. You have to peel away from your course to save yourself from relentless beam. “Dad! Jane-” Your voice cracks as a sobs come spilling out. Your head is ringing from the onslaught of sound, and your chest is burning. Few others are running anymore, and you curse as you see Pipe Lake coming into view. You are not a strong swimmer, and you definitely can’t run around the lake in time.

Running through someone’s back yard where a barbecue has been abandoned, you run to the very edge of their dock and dive under the water. In your panic, you forget to hold your breath right, and water floods your nose. You can’t cough out the water, and you’re getting dragged down. 

Still clutching the piggy bank like it’s your last lifeline, you black out in the embrace of the water that’s heating up quickly from what you assume is the beam closing in on you.

~~  
~~

Your weary eyes blink open as you blankly stare upwards. Where are you? It’s dark and the sound of machinery is whirring. You must be in the hospital. There are IVs in your hands and arms- more than you think are normal. Whatever landed you here must have been bad.

You think you recall drowning. Maybe that’s why it hurts to breathe.

You hear excited voices come close to you and the owners of the incomprehensible voices turn on a bright light above you. Pain flares in your eyes, and horror takes hold of your stomach as you look down and see- You feel something coming up your throat, but you’re so hungry you know it’s going to be all bile.

The nurses- something seems off about them- commune anxiously and one of them steps in to administer a shot of something green. Why can’t you understand them? They should be speaking English, not- you don’t recognize what they’re speaking. Not just not understanding, but plain not even recognizing the sounds as being anything human.

Their clothes are funny and not like scrubs at all. A few minutes of staring stupidly at the nurse in front of you, and you realize in abject horror that she has something orange growing out of her head. And so does the guy beside her. They all do.

Their skin isn’t pale or dark, but grey. You’ve been captured by aliens. You’re going to be probed and returned to earth pregnant. Tears start flowing down your cheeks and hoarse wailing comes out warbled.

The woman you had been staring at so intently comes to your side and starts rubbing your cheek. You think it’s supposed to be soothing, but you’re too scared of them. You want your Dad. You want your older sister. 

Whatever they just gave you must be starting to kick in, and your eyes are starting to droop. She’s still patting your cheek and rubbing occasionally, smoothing your hair with her other hand. She seems so concerned, but yet she let them cut you open.

“Why am I here?” You slur.

No one understands you, or they don’t care. Sleep comes easily with the coercion of the drug they gave you.


	2. Chapter 2

You wake up in fright, your heart trying to leap out of your chest. Your stomach hurts so much and is tender to the touch. You want to look at it, but you’ve been outfitted in a black jumpsuit and would have to strip to get a good look.

The small room you’ve been placed in is completely empty and all the walls are blank white save one that has a large black screen. You keep expecting this screen to come to life, but in the hour you stare at it, nothing happens.

A part of the wall slides forward to reveal a hallway with one of the grey skinned people you thought were nurses. Her wild, curly hair and strong stance is reminiscent of an Amazon, and you stare up in wonder. She’s so beautiful, and despite her overwhelming presence, really cute. 

With a small smile, she points to herself and starts speaking. You think somewhere in there she probably said her name, but you don’t know what piece of information that was. You slowly get to your feet and almost fall back down. Her strong grip catches you, and you realize she could probably bench you easily.

You don’t know what she wants, but she closes the door behind her and sits in the corner with a device that looks like it’s for taking notes. The screen comes to life with foreign letters and pictures. The pictures are of random things like blueprints for vending machines. You don’t understand.

She happily types away as you awkwardly sit there, splitting time between staring at the screen and at the alien with cat ear shaped horns. The pictures keep changing, and you still can’t figure out the point to this.

“What did you do to my belly?” You finally muster up the courage to ask, holding the throbbing section of your abdomen.

She smiles warmly at you but does not answer. You wonder if they’ve learned any human languages. For the hell of it, you throw out,” Nihao- Guten Tag- Bonjour!” No response, just more tapping. You’re frustrated. You want to communicate and ask what their plan is. Why they had to kill your Dad and Jane. Why they had to destroy your whole neighborhood. What did they have to gain from it?

Tears well up in your eyes. You don’t want to be here. You want to be home eating your family’s obscene amounts of desserts and playing video games that you suck at and watch movies that Dave says are crappy. You plaintively stare at a blank wall as you realize, not only is your family dead, but most likely your friends too if they did a full scale invasion.

This session doesn’t last much longer, and you don’t know if it’s because it was never meant to be long, or because they realize you’re not catching the point.

Testing like that soon ends after a couple of weeks. Maybe it’s because they’ve determined they can’t learn anymore from you that way or maybe they’ve just realized they like cutting you up more.

Every day or night, or whatever it is- you’re always in that same dark room you first appeared in- it’s new body horror after new body horror. The copious amount of drugs they keep pumping through your system; though, keeps you from caring. 

Sometimes they cut cross sections to watch your muscles work as they have a machine flex your arm or leg repetitively. Sometimes they focus more on your chest, stomach, or back, watching your various organs work in tandem and seeing which ones they can remove and replace with little consequence.

Other sessions are more brain work. They get you hooked up like a lab rat and send electrical pulses to random parts of the brain to see what will happen. They sure aren’t squeamish about cutting your head open and removing pieces of skull. You think they have a way of placing it all back right so that it heals over like nothing ever happened, but you don’t know. You don’t move a lot these days. 

On rare occasions, They give you a few days off from the rigorous testing and place you in that all white room. The kind nurse with cat ear horns always accompanies you. She’ll put on something on the big screen, you guess it must be troll movies. She plays peekaboo with you and you stupidly laugh because they never relax the drug dosage. She rolls a ball at you and you feel like E.T. when you roll it back. Sometimes you even have enough presence of mind to hum the theme John Williams wrote.

When you’re strong enough in the dark room, she sometimes sneaks in and gives you treats like cut up fruit- tastes like apples. You do so little chewing now that they feed you by tube that it’s difficult but also so rewarding. She has to spoon feed you if she wants you to eat anything more difficult than that, and you are so thankful when she brings you real food. 

She seems so nice even though she’s participating in all these horrible, awful tests. Last night they surgically switched your pinkies and now they both bow out the wrong way. Why did they have to do that? What’s the point? Why do they do any of this?

You’ve tried asking her name between doses of the drug when you are almost half lucid. You’ve tried asking why she’s doing this. You’ve even tried asking what her favorite color is, even though you think it’s blue from the big bow she wears as a headband and the tail you’ve never seen her without.

Despite still not knowing all the syllables of what she calls you, you have managed to pick up what the doctors refer to the nurses as and what they say to halt an operation. When next she comes in, you weakly call,” Nurse. Stop. Stop. St-stop…” This earns a gasp. Using the little more you have, you beg,” Nurse scalpel stop.”

She proceeds to ask you questions you think, but you understand nothing of it. That was so much effort you just extended for how much of a stupor you’re in, you go unconscious before you can enjoy the apple she brought.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big tw: injuries, and tw: medical, and it's just very dark in general. Also, some people need to learn some fucking tact and how not to be racist assholes.

Still they keep you so drugged, half the time you think Dad will come visit you in the hospital. Lackadaisically, you wonder why you’re even here. Maybe a head injury. They drilled into the base of your skull after all, and you look straight out of a 90’s sci-fi with the headgear equipped and thick needles they drilled into your head.

With a doped up expression as you’ve become accustomed to over the last two years, you idly move your eyebrows up and down to feel the tug at your skin near the three needles penetrating your forehead. Over time you’ve grown even less aware or worried about your unfortunate situation.

Your favorite nurse, she plays peekaboo and the scene from E.T., approaches. She holds an intimidating tool in her paw. It reminds you of the gun they used to put a chip into your thigh last year. Maybe it is that gun, you’ve stopped caring.

She calls out the name she’s come to call you. You still can’t fully make out what it sounds like, but you think maybe if they stopped doping you up on that green stuff you’d have an easier time.

Aiming somewhere specific on your scalp, she pulls the trigger and a dull _thwuck_ accompanies a wide chip forcing its way through your skull. Does this mean you’ll be brain damaged on top of drugged? Did they wreck the structural integrity of your skull with all their tests?

You don’t know, but you dully acknowledge it hurts quite a bit.

This doesn’t seem very ethical, you think for the 500th time. Your repetitive thought gets interrupted by the alien saying something you can actually recognize. “There you go, furriend! You should be able to understand us meow!” Her giggle is just as cute as it’s always been.

It takes you a few moments to string together,“ Why can you speak English now?”

“I’m not speaking English, Blue Eyes, you’re speaking Alternian!”

Are you a dragon now? That thought amuses you for a bit. It is really easy, even more so than before, to amuse you.

“I don’t feel well,” You decide to vocalize now that she understands you. You’ve tried telling her many times, but she always just acted like you were a gibbering monkey and cooed at how cute you were.

A serious mien takes hold of her docile features, making her look more feral than you remember her ever looking before. Smoothing your hair gently, she quietly assures you,” I know, furriend, that’s why I’m breaking you out tomorrow, but you’ve got to listen meow. We didn’t realize your kind was furlly sentient. My furriend, Tavros, is going to help meow break you out. You know him, right? A bronze blood with shiny legs?”

You try to nod, but the tool in you lower skull and the needles keep your head stationary. “Yeah,” you weakly confirm.

“He’ll suture all your current incisions, and remove all the machinery from you early tomorrow, then later that night I want you pounce into that cabinet when his team leaves, okay? Can you remember that?”

“I think so.” It’s really simple, but your head is so foggy.

“He’ll return and report you missing, purrtend to check evfurrywhere in this room and send search parties to the southern entrance. When he knocks on your cabinet twice, you’re good to go.”

It’s starting to get too complicated. Shiny legs, cabinet, two knocks…

“Then head left and run until you see meow.”

“Thank you,” you mouth, tears falling freely because they slowed down your ability to blink somehow and you can’t catch the trickle that slowly increases to a cascade. You’re going to be free. _Free!_

It dawns on you that maybe they didn’t slow your blinking but actually slowed your whole reaction speed. Blinking more as if you could somehow test this theory, you realize she’s gone.

You repeat her instructions for what seems like hours, maybe minutes, or a couple of days, until you hear shrieking,” What do you _mean_ his amputation’s been moved up a night? He won’t survive it in his condition!”

That poor sucker, whoever they are. Then it occurs to you that you are that poor sucker. You think she had stopped the sedative because you are able to care more about the pain you are in and make sense more of what is happening.

Fear like you haven’t experienced since your first day here shakes though your chest. All the stitched areas where they had pried you open to see what made you tick burn with a dull pain you haven’t bothered to notice in a long time.

Straining your eyes to see your restraints, you curse as you find metal. The doors open to your room and you try to keep your dead to the world expression despite the grim look residing on- shiny legs, _check!_ \- Tavros’ face.

He has two assistants, both with nasty tools, one with blades that light up when activated.

“I’m, um, sorry, human. I wish, that you could understand what I’m, um, saying. The plan, if you live, is still going. You know, er, with the other, leg out of, here later tonight.”

You think this is his way of telling you the breakout is still a go, _if_ you survive of course. That’s always the kicker. 

The left leg of your torture chair raises and clicks into place parallel to the floor. One assistant comes forward brandishing the saw and revs it’s motor so the teeth start sliding back and forth.

“Wait,” Tavros stutters out,” Other leg. That’s, uh, the leg, with his, er, tracker.”

“Really?” An assistant questions.

“Did I, st-t-tutter, uh, before?”

They both decline to comment and switch out your legs. You’re trying to keep your heart under control, because the heart monitor is starting to pick up your panic. Tavros steps forwards and gives you a shot. “That, should uh, keep his heartrate, down.”

Without further ado, they begin the procedure. Try as you might, you shriek in agony as the saw rips your flesh apart, and slides through your femur like butter. It must be the panic that stills your heart because you’re staring like a deer in headlights as Tavros pronounces you dead. You can’t move as he starts dismantling your head accessories. The assistants start removing your restraints when one exclaims,” Wait! He _is_ still alive! I feel a pulse.”

With a chagrined grimace, Tavros steps up to the assistant and headbutts him swiftly, catching the other with his large horns as he swings his head around.

“Quick! Into, the cabinet,” he hisses, opening the door and pretty much throwing you in. You hear the saw rev to life and tear through flesh a couple of times, before trying and failing to cut through metal. It’s dropped to the ground carelessly if the sound of it sputtering to a stop on the metal floor is anything to go by.

What sounds like some kind of security tramples in. “What happened, Nitram?!”

“The human, uh, grabbed, the saw. His cuff was, loose, and he kind of struck, uh, back at us. My, er, prosthetics saved me. I think, he may have, maybe headed south.

Your breathing is erratic, and if alarms weren’t going off, you’re pretty sure they would hear you. You clutch your thigh, stub that is is now, and feel it’s cauterized. It’s hard to think clearly with the drug still wearing off and the searing pain radiating from your leg. The darkness is swallowing your consciousness until you snap back to awareness at the two knocks you’ve been waiting for all this time. As you tumble out of the cabinet, he sticks you with something, probably another drug as they are always pumping you with something.

“Go, um, find Nepeta!” he whispers.

Adrenaline pushes you to crawl forward, to the left, and down the endless hall as Tavros splits the other way. Your thigh starts bleeding as you fall and jar it against the textured metal. You grit your teeth and keep going even as incisions that never got sewn up completely start gushing.

A form in the darkness grows as you get closer, and relief floods your aching body as you see the curly locks. Tavros called her Nepeta, you remember. “Nepeta, I can’t go anymore!” You cry as you shakily collapse.

She scoops you up tenderly and purrs,” It’s going to be alright, Blue Eyes. I purromise! I’ll take you to my meowrail; he can fix you up.”

Though you remain moderately conscious, your energy has been sapped to the point you can’t even talk anymore. She runs, cradling your head and rubbing your cheek with her thumb. Your eyes droop as you begin to feel safe.

Rain pelts down on you two as she leaves the facility, but you can’t feel it. You only know because her hair is getting sopping wet and it dimly amazes you just how long it is.

She runs.

And runs.

Ans still she runs.

It has to be almost half an hour, and you are so cold. You can’t feel the rain, but you can feel the wind tearing at your soaked, bloody skin.

“We’re almost there,” She coos.

You mumble some kind of acknowledgement, but not even you understand what you said.

“Just don’t take a catnap, okay?”

You try to shrug, but find it impossible.

A mansion comes into view, and it makes your eyes wide. It’s so big and intimidating. Creepy, too, and this is where she’s planning to take you?!

She’s stopped running, in front of a huge door, and knocks with a huge handle. You can still feel the rocking motion of running and just a touch motion sickness- though that’s the least of your problems.

She backs up as it swings open, and a hulking alien comes out, surprised and asking,” Nepeta? What are you doing… with that?”

“They were killing him,” She cries out,” He’s not an animal, he’s a person, and they were killing him apawllingly slowly.” You think she’s crying for you. “Can you heal him up, purrlease?”

Looking around first, he motions for her to come in, and it feels so good to get out of the howling wind. “I’ll do the best I can, but he can’t stay here. I help trolls, my medical labs aren’t set up for beasts.”

“Equius! I can’t leave him anywhere else, they’ll check my hive and if they find him, they’ll cull him. Purrlease, let him stay.” She stares up at him with the cutest face you’ve ever seen, and you see him break under the gaze.

“Fine, until he’s fully healed. I don’t want a pet though, especially not a one legged one. That is far from a musclebeast.”

“You’re the best meowrail ever!” She’s thanking him as you get handed off to the scary troll. “He’s missing his glycemic regulator organ, and they replaced his…” She continues to list off your ailments, handing him papers that better describe the issues. Your eyes droop, and after this whole journey filled with pain, you finally blackout.

~~  
~~

You come to floating in a tank of green liquid. No. _No!_ You thought you escaped the hospital. You don’t want to be drugged up anymore. Please! Tears meld into the solution you float in as you start flailing against the glass and screaming your throat ragged into the mouthpiece allowing you to breathe.

You continue your futile attempts to break free until machinery all around start triggering alarms. You do notice, despite your panic, that you are in a new room, lit up a light blue color from the floor, and that the machinery that had become a part of your expected backdrop is replaced with vastly different equipment.

A hulking troll comes running into the room, recognizable from his broken horn as being the owner of the mansion Nepeta took you to. So it wasn’t all a dream. You are actually free.

That doesn’t stop you feeling like you are dying. Your chest is constricting and even with the device pumping oxygen into you and releasing the carbon dioxide, it feels like you’re not breathing at all. Your heart is pounding so fast, you’re afraid it will burst. Impending doom presses all around you and you feel so small and vulnerable.

The large troll who wears a lot of blue and brown leather starts typing into a control panel swiftly, deploying a sequence that starts draining the liquid until you slump in an empty glass cylinder, still trying to catch your breath and shaking ever so slightly. You try to curl up into a ball, but it feels so unbalanced without your right leg, and you fall over to your side, still crying.

“Human, what is the cause for emergency? I can find nothing wrong medically to cause such an attack.”

Trembling, you shrug as the glass retracts into the ceiling. “I- I, I th-thought I w-w-was b-back in the hosp-p-pital.” Your voice echos strangely, and you realize it’s coming out of a speaker separate from your body. Maybe because of the mouthpiece you wear. It covers your whole jaw, but feels fluid as it stretches to accommodate for your speaking.

Draping a fresh towel around you, he verifies,” So you had an attack of hysteria.” He removes the mouthpiece for you and sets it aside.

“I guess,” You accept his explanation, tugging the towel close to you. You just want it never to happen again.

“Forgive me if I am not accustomed to speaking with lesser beings. That has always been my moirail’s department more so than mine.” You don’t even feel offended, you’re happy just to know that you aren’t being tested on anymore. “But, would you agree to some tests to check your wellbeing better than I could ascertain during your unconsciousness?” You bristle at the word test, but Nepeta trusts this troll, and you’re in no shape to disagree.

“I will take your silence for permission and proceed. Do you require a warmer towel while you dry off?”

This is when you notice you’re only wearing the underwear provided for modesty back at the hospital, and you blush. You didn’t realize you were almost nude or you would have started off with asking for clothing. 

You get distracted however when you look down at your body and stare wide-eyed at the unfamiliar sight. You’re bigger than you used to be, excusing your missing leg, and while scrawny, you can tell you’ve grown broader a little too. Scars litter your whole body, some pale white from the early days of your imprisonment, some swollen and red from the last week. The biggest by far is the giant H spanning your whole abdomen where they had initially cut you open to watch your digestive track. While white and fading, it still leaves a raised, gnarly line from being done so hastily and sloppily.

“Blue Eyes?” Equius flusteredly calls you back to the present.

“I’d never really seen what they all did to me,” You abstractedly respond, tracing some of the really impressive scars. You feel to your back where there are even more scars, and then your head which is bald and raised with lumps and lines everywhere from their countless adventures.

You think you’re going to be sick.

“Please do not soil my laboratory that I painstakingly clean.” He says this, but he is starting to sweat heavily. You don’t know if it’s from the nerves of dealing with an alien (you!) or if he just usually sweats like this, or if it’s normal for all trolls. You don’t think you’ve noticed it from anyone else, but to be fair, you have been sedated for the last two years you’re pretty sure.

“Sorry, um, I’ll try not to,” You preemptively apologise, not quite sure you’ll last the whole waking period without losing your nonexistent cookies. “What happened to my clothes they captured me in? My piggy bank?” You really want your shorts because in their pockets you had pictures of your family.

“Your possessions? My moirail left them here, but I haven’t gone through them yet. I did not realize pets wore clothes.” He leaves you and returns with a bag labeled “ _Human 01: Possessions_ ”. Giving it to you, he starts toweling off with a fresh towel he got for himself.

“So I was the first human tested on…” They must have got bored with you judging from how they were planning on essentially dismantling you.

“Yes, and we learned a lot from you. I was privy to much of the test results because of my moirail. They concluded how capable as pets your species was after the first few weeks.”

Horror chills your spine as you stare up at him with watery eyes. Because of you, humans are becoming pets? Now you really are going to be sick. He must have noticed the shift in color on your face, because he quickly slides a waste basket to you just in time.

It hurts to throw up. Hell, it hurts to exist. A lot of your skin is sensitive to you just moving slightly, and your body is quite bruised. Your right leg aches as if it were still there and you don’t know how to soothe it because there is nothing to physically touch. Dazed, you wipe your mouth and open the bag of your limited possessions.

One shirt, badly torn. One pair of shorts, moderate condition. One shoe and one sock, they must have lost the others. One piggy bank, surprisingly unbroken. One pair of glasses, but you realize you haven’t needed glasses since you became a test subject. You quickly get the pants out and pull them on, but you realize they are too big for how scrawny you’ve become.

“Blue Eyes, perhaps it would behoove you to let me get you new clothing. Yours do not seem to fit exceptionally well.” 

You nod sadly as you scrunch the end of the shorts leg around your stub. How did this become your life? The last two years are just a giant blur of needles and blades, and somehow the human race has been subjugated in your absence. More like, because of your absence. Now you are debating clothing detail with a huge troll who seems somewhat pleasant if generally racist against your kind.

Hesitating, he offers,” My field of expertise is prosthetics, if you would like a new leg. It’s quite painful, but it would increase your mobility to almost one hundred percent.”

Pain… that sounds like a deal ender; however, you would like being able to walk.

“Thank you, I would appreciate it.”

He lifts you on to a medical table and proceeds with tests he promised, but it seems more like a physical. If you closed your eyes and thought hard enough, you could just imagine you were getting a physical from a super buff doctor on Earth.

He ends it by taking precise measurements of your left leg and hips, and you wonder what it’s going to be like having a robotic leg.

“I must put you back in the recuperation tank. I don’t have a recuperacoon for you to sleep in.”

“Why do I have to go back to sleep right away?”

“You need time to recover from all the injuries you have sustained.”

“Why do I need to sleep in a tank? Why not a bed?”

Equius frowns and admits,” I’ve never heard of a bed before, but as for why the tank- Nanites are being pumped into the water to infiltrate your body and heal you.”

“Wow!” you exclaim. “For real?” You really are part of a sci-fi now.

“Yes, along with nutrients required for quicker healing.” He picks you up, and you cry out at first from how tightly he grips. He panics and quickly adjusts his grip so you’re no longer in pain. He mutters something about ‘having done so well too’. Clicking back on the mouthpiece, he deploys the glass cylinder.

It starts filling back up with clear green liquid. You watch it, intrigued by that which you can’t see. Nanites just sound cool in general _and_ they’re healing you. “Will you be here when I wake up?” you ask hesitantly. “I don’t want to wake up alone. I’ll feel like I’m back at the hospital.”

Frowning and crossing his arms, Equius pragmatically responds,” I’ll see what I can do, now go back to sleep."


	4. Chapter 4

Your eyelids hang heavily as you awake, and you keep your head bowed so it doesn’t seem like you’ve gained consciousness. It sounds like two people are having a serious conversation, and you don’t want them to feel self-conscious.

“... to create a new colony, one of peace.” It sounds like the nurse- Nepeta.

“You’ll never be able to come back to this colony,” The voice you’ve come to know so very well argues. “I don’t want you to leave, my kitten. What about your life here?” He sounds really upset, you wonder what could get him this emotional.

“But, Equius! You know how long I’ve had felines for him.” You peek your eyes open ever so slightly, and see their closeness as Equius holds her cheek in his palm. “Karkitty purrsonally asked me to come…”

“And has expressed interest in taking you as his matesprit,” Equius fills in.

“Even more than that. I can’t explain. We were meant to be. Our love… it fills more than just one quadrant.”

Equius pulls away as if bitten. 

“But you’ll always be my meworail, and I’ll always be there fur you on Trollian, and come to you when I need help. I love you, Equius, it’s just that this is my clawing.” She takes his jaw in her small but strong hands and pulls their foreheads together. “I really want your approval. It means a lot to me.”

“Of course, Nepeta. If this is your road to happiness, I will grant my blessings. I’m going to miss you so much.” The last sentence is choked off as he tries to rein back his tears but fails. They crumple into a passionate hug, and you feel like you’re violating their privacy. You try to shut your eyes hard and return to sleep.

~~  
~~

You wake up many times in a panic from your vivid, gory nightmares. Equius is always there, or at least close enough to be there within minutes, and soothes you the best he can. You can tell that you make him nervous with how fragile you are. Even after you’re nurtured to a healthy body weight- he’s just so strong and you are so little.

After a few weeks, you’ve graduated to eating real food like Nepeta used to bring you. Surprisingly, a lot of troll food is similar to earth food, and it makes you miss home. You have to ask him not to bring you sweet foods. You just can’t eat them anymore. 

You’re lying back on an operating table right now, clenching your teeth as he drills and sews metal into your skin. He has explained that because of some kind of medical jargon, he cannot use pain killers during procedures, and that it must be done in stages so that the swelling doesn’t ruin any of the implants.

You try to keep yourself distracted by running your hands through the little hair you have finally grown back. They kept you clean shaven in the lab, which you guess makes sense when you remember all the tests on your brain they did. Your hair has finally grown to about a half inch now, and you wonder how long it will take to grow back to where it was before all this hell.

Equius seems used to working in silence, but you need something to keep your mind off the pain, so you ask,” What kind of movies do you like? Trolls have movies, right? I think I saw a few way long ago.”

Clearing his throat and looking up from his meticulous work, he replies,” I don’t care much for movies; they are often catered for lowbloods. I spend my recreational time working with robotics and the fine sciences.”

“Robotics? Cool! So do you make robots to kill other robots?” Visions of _Robot Wars_ swirl through your head.

“Actually, I make them to try and kill me,” He corrects nonchalantly. Pausing from his work and looking up at your vaguely horrified expression, he explains,” I have a very stressful life, and a very short temper. Breaking things, and fixing them relaxes me. It makes me feel more in control of my surroundings, I guess. It is also exercise fit for a highblood of my status and Strength.” His X’s sound funny, like he is purposefully stressing them different.

He is so matter of fact; he doesn’t seem used to talking to other people very much. Sometimes while he mulls over how to respond to things he is accidently creepy, completely ignoring social convention of eye contact (though you’re just assuming he’s staring at you, you can’t actually see his eyes…) and other nonverbal clues that come off kind of adorkably awkward. Maybe troll culture is different, but with your experiences with Nepeta and Tavros, you think he’s just out of practice.

You’ve never noticed anyone here other than a rare client or two. He mostly works on models and submits his work to companies. You think he’s really lonely, and you think Nepeta’s leaving aggravated an already present problem.

Biting your lip doesn’t even register as painful compared to the metal weaving through your leg, but you bite it hesitantly all the same. You want to ask about Nepeta. She saved your life. You want to know if she’s okay… but you don’t want to hurt him. He’s already hurting so much.

The two of you don’t spend that much idle time together. He tries to make sure you’re not upset or freshly injured and will tentatively try to help if you are, and he eats with you- despite sitting on a chair while letting you stay on the ground. Otherwise, you are kind of just existing in his home alongside him. You can’t get around very much, your leg and its delicate work in progress keeps you from being that active, but you see him when he’s in the lab across from this one.

You see how his shoulders slouch as he works on fine machinery, their incredible mass shrinking in despondency. He’ll be walking over to the other side of the lab to grab something, and suddenly stop- lost in thought and gipping his hands so tight they start to shake.

Speaking of lost in thought, Equius is trying to get your attention and it smarts a little.

“Human, please answer. Does this-” he puts pressure on your leg- “hurt at all?”

You wince and respond,” Yeah, a little. Sorry, I was zoning.”

“It’s to be expected of a simple minded creature,” he excuses, clearly trying to mollify off your concern.

You frown and scrunch up your face. You don’t like being treated like a monkey. A monkey that can sign ‘grapes’, but still…

This medical session takes a little more time, but it’s spent in silence. You’re too tangled in conflicted feelings. When Equius finishes, he politely helps you up, one foot on the ground with crutches. 

You feel stable in this mode of transportation, but his house is made up of many floors, and only labs reside on this one. Thus, with your reluctance to attempt stairs and potentially fuck up your chance at walking normally ever again, you just wander around on this floor. It’s interesting enough anyways. He brings you food whenever he eats, which sometimes you have to remind him to do because he gets caught up in his work. Equius even cleared out a storage room of broken parts and designated it your room. 

You room is really plain. It is literally just a big closet with shelving, but you don’t mind. He did his best to make it clean and safe after it had been a dump for broken robots for so long. There were limited options for rooms on this floor, and he let you pick it out. When you asked (and explained what one was), he even made a makeshift bed for you.

Equius really is quite nice, he just forgets this in favor of his racism. Maybe if you could teach him to be a little better, he could become nicer, and not come off as such an asshole all the time.


	5. Chapter 5

You quietly enter the room to find the source of the muted sound. Hiding from detection, you see Equius curled up in the corner, wedged under a desk, crying into his arms. He can’t be that much older than you… and you’re what, like 15? 16? You don’t think he’s any older than 19, but here is this grown-up, crying his eyes out, and you don’t know how to react.

The bare skeleton of your new leg touches down on the tile, but it has no strength yet, so you still need crutches. As quietly as you can manage, you make your way over and maneuver your way into sitting beside him. “... Equius,” you call softly and hesitantly.

He ignores you.

“Are you okay,” you try again, placing a hand on his sweaty shoulder.

Clearing his throat, he asks,“ What do you want, human? Have I forgot to feed you again?”

“No,” you lie. “I just, um…” You don’t want to point out the very clear fact that he is crying under a desk. “Found you… here, and was wondering…”

“As would be expected from my station of aristocracy, I am fine.” He raises his head the few inches he can underneath the massive, but still tiny compared to him, desk. You see his eyes for the first time. They’re rimmed with blue that matches the irises. The pained expression they hold breaks your heart, and you slide your arm around his back supportively.

“Is there anything I can do to help,” you ask. He shakes his head slightly, then pauses. You’re surprised as he leans into your half hug, and you hug even harder in response. 

“I really miss her,” he whispers. “I really need my moirail, but she’s gone. I was running so thin before, ragged. Now I…” A sob breaks his sentence, and he doesn’t attempt to finish it as he continues to cry into your shoulder.

You wish you could help more, but he seems to appreciate the hour you spend sitting there rubbing circles on his back as he cries. A short while after his tears have subsided, you’re stomach growls, calling your earlier lie.

He gently moves you aside and crawls out from under the desk. Putting his glasses back in place, he stoically informs you,” I shall go prepare food in the nutrition block.” He does just as he says, and brings it back for you two to eat quietly.

He doesn’t mention the incident, and neither do you.

Days later, Equius doesn’t understand at first why you start crying when he hands you a glass of milk. He offered to share with you his favorite drink, making sure to let you know just how special this was. You were a little worried it was alcoholic at first because he overemphasised how not everyone gets to drink it, but you accepted the offer on merit of how excited he was to share something with you.

You weren’t expecting good ol’ common milk.

“What is wrong with you?” he asks promptly, phrasing his concern roughly as he tends to. “Milk is a delicacy in our culture. You haven’t even tried it.”

Through your blubbering, you manage to spit out,” I never got the chance to pick up more milk for Jane!”

“What?”

What started as shocked tears quickly escalated to where you are now. It’s hard to breathe, and you’re squeaking. The world is blurry, but even so, you can see the glass of milk clear as day. Why had you eaten cereal that morning? You could have had oatmeal. Her last day alive, and you kept her from baking. You’re the worst!

You push the glass back towards Equius, and sputter,” I can’t. I’m sorry, I can’t.”

He holds his silence as he watches you, and you try to calm down enough to properly explain. The lump in your throat won’t go away though, and you can’t stop the tears. “The day- the day that the sky went black… I was gonna b-buy a new game I was really looking forwards to, and I had- I should start at the beginning- Earlier that day I had cereal and-” As you try to take a deep breath to smooth out your voice, that horrible wheezing sound happens again.

“Take your time,” Equius encourages, wrapping your entire shoulder in the palm of his reassuring hand. “Please,” he tags on, and if you didn’t know he was bad with speaking, it would have sounded like it was meant to be sardonic.

“I had cereal and used up all the milk on the day I was abducted. I never got the chance to buy new milk for Jane, so she didn’t get to bake the cookies she wanted to,” you say when breathing loosens up. “And she loved baking all the time, but she didn’t get to, and then she died.”

“That is why you don’t like dessert?” he asks.

You nod. You didn’t particularly care for them beforehand, but now the idea of sugary foods leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Well, you should not let that get in the way of your health. Milk makes you STRONG,” he insists, sliding the cup back to you. “It’s hard to get now that I don’t have Aurthour around, so please try to enjoy it.”

You pick the glass up in your hands and stare at the creamy, white liquid. After a few seconds to prepare yourself, you take a drink. It’s really not so bad, once you get passed the emotional crisis of missing your dead sister you lost to alien invasion.

“Thanks, it’s really good,” you say after a few drinks, remembering that he’s sharing his favorite beverage with you. “It’s nice and cold,” you add to try and sound more sincere. 

He smiles and you smile back. In all honesty, it’s a little awkward, but he pats you on the head. “Just the way you like it?” he questions, and you nod. That makes his smile even more pronounced, and you’re glad to have been a part of it, even if you don’t really understand why. He doesn’t smile a whole lot, you’ve noticed, but he makes it count.

“What do you say we venture to the lab after your milk?”

“Okay!” you enthusiastically shout. The next minute is difficulty trying to chug without making it obvious you aren’t savoring it. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. Off to the labs with cool robots and stuff!

~~  
~~

You’re pretty proud of your laptop- you made it all by yourself. It looks like a piece of crap… but it shows how much better you’re getting with computers and robotics. It’s based off of Equius’ main computer (that he doesn’t know you were taking apart during the day) and it runs pretty nicely.

When he caught you watching him build robots yet again a few weeks ago, he offered for you to come up close and actually observe. He phrased it as “perhaps a lowly, disadvantaged human could improve his station in life”. Not the most polite way of letting you start learning robotics, but you were excited to learn. He’s been consistently letting you take part in his lab sessions where he builds prosthetics or maps out plans for new robots.

Equius will explain why he has crossed various wires, or the gauge system of alternian gears, or whatever you ask about. He’s said that you could play with whatever scraps he left about when day came, and you start hoarding pieces of machinery that look important. You’re glad your room has so many shelves. 

Your piggybank has the front and center spot in the only shelf you left for display. Leaning against it, you have a picture of Dad and Jane. At first, your stomach curls when you see them, but gradually the uneasiness shifts into just missing them forlornly. Only one photograph survived, and the waterlogged photo doesn’t really show off their entire likeness, all hard edges are gone, and the colors bleed together interestingly. White lines crinkle through the picture, and no matter how hard you tried, you can’t get it to lay flat against the piggy bank.

You mumble obscenities (very quietly because apparently Equius _hates_ obscene language and will refuse to help you the rest of the night if he hears you use it) as the laptop freezes again. You think maybe the battery is overheating. Oh well, that is a problem for future you. It’s got to be almost dusk, and Equius will expect you to wake up with the moon.

Placing your laptop back on its appointed shelf, you curl up on your makeshift bed. Closing your eyes tentatively, you hope restful sleep will come as it hasn’t in quite some time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many birthdays in May! Hope you're enjoying yours, my dedicated reader, derp! This was a chapter of crying, because that's what characters in my stories do.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hear there's another birthday. I was originally planning to finish this up and post it after I got back from camping, but you inspired me, SameGuyAsOtherCommentCan'tRememberWhatNameIUsed. Happy birthday! 
> 
> Unfortunately with classes starting this month, I can't keep any promises for future birthday submissions u.u; and submissions themselves may be a little slower than this summer (I know, hard to believe x.x)... Sorry! I am thankful for all of you who bare with the slow upd8s!

You’re not surprised when you wake up in a cold sweat. You are, however, disappointed that you feel even more exhausted than you did before attempting to sleep. 

Another knock shakes the door. “Human, I have news as to your future.”

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you try to figure out what the fuck he’s talking about. It is unconscionable to believe one is able to be vaguely coherent at this hour, whatever hour it is.

Getting to your feet (which you can actually do now!), you unsteadily make your way to the door. The pressure on your right thigh is kind of painful in the dull, throbbing sort of way, but Equius said constant walking practice was required if you wanted to get your full range of movement. It takes longer than one would expect for a six and a half foot journey, but Equius doesn’t seem annoyed by the wait when you finally open the door.

Actually, he looks kind of unsettled, but he won’t look right at you. “What is it,” you ask uncertainly. He generally has a flustered expression only _after_ trying and failing something- like picking up an object without breaking it or talking to you for any length of time passed five minutes.

“I promised my moirail that I would look after your wellbeing until you were fully healed. I have done that, and even outfitted you with a prosthetic, more than fulfilling my obligation…” This sounds rehearsed, and you don’t know what to make of it. “I have, um, decided to offer you as a pet to a troll who actually is prepared to have a pet. You’ve been walking for two weeks now, and are showing great progress. I believe any owner to purchase you would be very lucky.”

“W-what?” you whisper in disbelief. He can’t be getting rid of you. You don’t know other trolls out there aside from Nepeta and Tavros, and you know for sure Nepeta isn’t coming back. What if one of the trolls that like cutting you up get their hands on you? All you know of these grey people is that they have no qualms over cutting up humans, and you’re going to be sold to some random one?

Tears collect in your eyes and your hands start to shake. This is unfair. You feebly try to push Equius out of the way, anger making you forget that you are a puny human and he is a hulking troll. You pointlessly pound your fists against him like that could possibly hurt him, but he doesn’t stop you. When he doesn’t budge, you squirm between him and the door frame, squeezing out of the closet and into the hallway. 

“Human, what are you doing?”

“You lousy trolls are just the worst!” You yell as you try to run away from him. Your limping run aggravates the pre-existing pain, but you don’t care. You hate trolls. All trolls! You need to get away.

Equius catches up with you easily, and he says,” I fail to see what you hope to accomplish running like this. The traders will be here in a few hours.” He grabs you by the shoulder, halting all forward motion instantly. You try to pull out of his grasp, but it is futile. Tears begin to run down your cheeks, and you give up on the idea of running away. You don’t even know what lies outside other than the scenery you can see from windows. It was a dumb idea.

“I am-” It seems like he was about to apologise, but he concludes with,” I wish you the best of luck.”

~~  
~~

You’re still getting used to your prosthetic; stairs are by far the worst of your troubles. 

Riding in the pet trading vehicle sucks, especially since they keep you collared to the walls and a slim bracelet keeps your hands are folded together with an electric field.

You tried starting up conversations with the fellow humans, but the trolls obviously went out of their way to place you guys with people from different parts of the world to cut off easy communication. 

One girl with light brown hair speaks English pretty well, but she has a hard time with your accent. You giggle at the the thought of what she would say about Dave’s. Not that you’ve ever heard it, but you like to imagine a very strong southern drawl. You wonder idly what Jade’s accent is like. Jade and Jake are your cousins, you chat with Jade all the time, but you’ve never met them in person.

Katya’s eyes flicker from side to side as she asks,” What do you think they will do with us?”

“They’re selling us as pets,” you reply, not having to guess. Nobody else seems to be able to speak Alternian. From what you and Katya have been able to say to each other, it seems trolls are hearding humans the best they can without structural damage to the buildings, and selecting humans from these groups to bring planetside.

Planetside… This planet is a colony; your planet was no where near the first to be conquested.

“We become pets?”

“No doubt about it.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see her small frown as she asks,” How you so sure?”

Squirming uncomfortably, you answer,” I’ve been a lab rat for two years, and because of it, I can understand their language…” Your head starts itching as you think about it, but the restraints keep you from scratching it.

Her mouth makes an ‘oh’ as she obviously stares at some of your scars. Smiling sheepishly, you change the conversation to what the strategy for your group of pets should be. “So, how long have you been traveling with this group?”

“Sorry? I did not understand.”

“Uh, how long… have you been moved? With these people?” 

“Oh, uh, four weeks, I think. Maybe more. The same I come from Earth with. They took us all to Russia first.” Her eyes droop sadly as she laments,” I had no knowing of being pet. I don’t know if I should be happy? I thinked slavery.”

“Same thing really,” you shrug. “Owned by another. Disposable when you’re no longer needed.” You both sit in silence, cringing at sudden turns your ride pitches with, taking a toll on your necks. With a final thought, you ask,“ Well, what should we do? To get free?”

“You think it possible? We are on alien world. Aliens are five times the strength of man. We are no match. How could we be?”

With a goofy grin, you respond,” Ruin their plans. They want to sell us? Be unlikable!” A thought suddenly pops into your head, and you quickly ask,” What languages do you speak?”

“Ukranian, English, Russian, and a small bit of French.”

You are momentarily distracted from your plan, because you can’t imagine knowing so many languages. You totally cheated to be bilingual. “Could you see if anyone else speaks one of those, and tell them what we know? Have them spread it if possible?”

She relays the information to the best of her ability, and a french boy perks up at hearing his language. He quickly transfers the message into German. This continues as your message popcorns from language to language.

Turning her head the slightest bit, the most she can manage with the collar, she whispers,” Thank you for giving me hope, my friend. This may just work!”

Your cheeks warm up as you try to downplay your importance in this. She’s giving you a weird look, you think.

The vehicle pulls over soon after that, and the door opens to reveal two full moons and one crescent. You’ve learned that trolls have different blood colors, and that cold colors are stronger. That’s why you think you’re lucky at first when you see a burgundy ‘X’ on his chest.

That is until he releases the magnetic hold on your collars and lifts you all to your feet with his mind. His partner, an elegant troll with a dark purple symbol, enters and looks on disapprovingly. “Ready them to be auctioned in two hours.”

“Two hours?”

“Is that a complaint I hear?” she snarls.

“No, sir!” he quickly answers and gets to work. Every collar is hooked to a main line that he can tug on. Between the two of them, they pull you all out of the vehicle into the pale moonlight. They check all your teeth unceremoniously, just shoving their fingers in and feeling around. Katya bites the X guy and gets a swift beat to the head.

“Don’t rough up the face!” Rasaav, as you’ve heard her called, warns,” You’ll reduce the human’s value.” Never have you heard ‘human’ used so disgustedly.

They continue prepping you by smearing you down with an ashy substance that greys your complexion and evens your skin tone to reduce the natural redness that gathers in your cheeks and nose. They strip you all to just briefs and begin choosingly spreading various colored oils over you to coordinate with your eyes. It defines your muscles and emulates a healthy glow of blue or other silly colored bloods.

Katya is having none of this and starts spitting at them.

“If she is too impudent to sell, we’ll have to cull her.”

“Katya! Stop! They’ll kill you!”

She halts and asks,” Is that what they said?” You nod in affirmation and she sighs, calming down to compliancy.

You all look ridiculously toned and healthy, albeit devoid your typical natural undertones. It’s nauseatingly fake given how hungry you all are.

“The auction is about to start. We cull anything that doesn’t sell.”

Alarm runs through you. Everyone is under the impression they should be undesirable! This is your fault; you need to fix this quickly! “Death if you can’t sell,” you hurriedly cry out, looking to Katya to start the diffusion of knowledge. She dutifully does, and soon everyone at least has some idea.

With a painful tug, you’re lead onto a stage, and stare out at all the trolls. Some have fins like fish, and you realize the finned aliens all have brighter purple to pinkish color bloods. Just how segregated is this race?

“This human has green eyes, sure to make an olive or jade happy, and is wonderful for breeding,” your lead seller begins, pulling forward one of the older girls in your group. Her verdant eyes well up with tears as she is made to twirl for the crowd telekinetically.

Prices start going, and soon she is sold to an olive blood with mean eyes. You think she spoke a little German, so you call out softly,” viel glück” after having Katya ask the french boy.

Your experience with the trolls’ cruelty makes your outlook for these people rather dim. Your effort inspires the others to send out similar farewells to everyone. This could very well be their last human contact forever, and you’re happy they’ll have at least some well wishes to hold on to.

Slowly, they go down the line, and every human sells. It’s only you and Katya left. As the numbers of humans dwindled, so did the trolls hoping to buy pets. Only a hooded figure, the hood sitting oddly on a curiously sloped horns, and two teal bloods remain.

“Only two remain, and as is customary, we’ll begin our cull and sell deal!” the purple blood announces happily, bringing you and Katya forwards. “Both have blue eyes, but the female is definitely closer to teal, while the male’s are a closer to deep blue. Both would be excellent to show off.”

“Why are they showing us together?” Katya asks.

With a grimace, you reply,” From what I can tell, they put the last two up for sale together… and the winner chooses which they get and which gets culled?”

“Killed?” she clarifies eyes clouding up. You don’t have the heart to affirm her conclusion and keep your eyes trained on the floor.

Bidding goes more aggressively than it has for a while, and the hooded figure seems desperate to win, but alas loses to a teal blood. The winner walks up when beckoned by the purple and accepts a twisted knife.

You watch warily as the teal blood steps behind Katya and slowly, as if this is a treat, begins to place the blade to her throat. No, you can’t let Katya die! It doesn’t matter you’ve known her for a few hours. Feigning agony and dropping to your knees dramatically, you cry out as if your leg is being chopped off again.

Lips curling in disgust, the teal blood spats,” Ugh, he’s defective!” and takes away the blade from Katya’s neck so it can be moved to just under your chin.

This is it, you realize, you are going to die.

The budding ideas you have about human rights are going to blink out of existence, and after all Nepeta and Equius did for you…

“Wait!” The hooded figure cries out, revealing his broken horn as he pulls back his hood. “As Equius, lead executioner and top robotics surgeon, I’ve come to reclaim Test Subject One, and with my status, my claim is incontestable.” His hulking frame as he walks up on the stage (skipping the stairs and just taking one large step up) definitely supports his cause as he walks up to the others like he has every right.

Holding out money, he says,” This should cover the disappointment of losing your kill.” Turning to the sellers, Equius charitably adds,” And here is a tip for keeping him safe.” He picks you up with one arm around the middle and holds you close to him.

Katya bolts forward while the attention is off her to reach you and places a warm kiss on your lips. You try to keep your face from screwing up, because you think that would be rude.

“I’m so thankful you take my place. Please run away from death. The world needs you…” Bashfully, she finishes,” And I would like to see you again. You’re handsome.”

You dimly realize she couldn’t understand when you’d been saved from death and probably doesn’t know that this troll intends to save you and didn’t just fight for the right to kill you. Before you can assuage her fear you will die, Equius pulls you up over his shoulder and takes you away.

“You came back for me,” you state quietly after a few minutes of silence. He strides slowly but covers great lengths with each step.

“Yes… I feared for your safety. My moirail would be upset if you died.... And, well, so would I, I must admit.”

“What do you think will happen to Katya?” You ask, your lips pulling into a frown as he sighs.

“The other human? She is likely to make a good pet, she seemed strong. She kissed you. Were you matesprits? You laid down your life for her.”

“Lovers? No, I only just met her! And besides, I don’t know if I’m really ready for that kind of stuff…” Perhaps the weirdest thing about your situation is your body dysphoria. It’s not like you absolutely hate everything about how you look… but it’s just uncanny… uncomfortable. You feel like a 13 year old, but you’ve grown bigger, you’ve started to growing the faintest hint of a mustache, and girls that look almost 16 or 17 think you’re handsome!

You’ve never really been into girls, not that you are a homosexual- not that there’s anything wrong with that!- but you’ve just never felt that way about others. You’ve never felt ooey-gooey over someone like Jane told you you would. You never joined your friends at school ogling at older women. You wonder if you’ll ever change to be normal, but you just… don’t feel that way.

You wonder if you’re broken.

“Human?”

“Yeah…?”

“I’m sorry I left you with the traders. It was foolish of me. Would you forgive me and be my pet?”

“Yeah, of course.” You want to him to be happy, and everyone deserves seconds chances. You’re not so sure about the ‘pet’ thing, but you’ll work that out later.

Getting to his home takes a while, but you’re too deep in thought to notice.

Everything is just where you left it when you get back. Your piggybank and photo haven’t even been touched. Your laptop is where it had been, left open and dead. 

You don’t remember what problem you’d been trying to troubleshoot, but you’ll have to start over. You get a chance to start over... You’re glad you get to return to this closet you’ve come to call your room. It’s small and crappy looking, but it’s yours, and you’ve put a lot of work into your laptop and other small accomplishments that now reside on its shelves.

You look back at Equius who just set you down here. 

“You must be tired,” he comments,” I’ll leave you to your business.”

“Wait…” You walk back up to him, which is slowly getting easier. “Thank you.” You hug him, and laugh a little at how awkwardly he returns it.


	7. Chapter 7

“What’s going on?” you ask as you come out of your room to see Equius shuffling from lab to lab straightening up things before running down the stairs out of sight. You didn’t get an answer before he descended and you sigh. It’s not like him to run off without an explanation. 

Clenching your jaw, you make your way over to the stairs and step down with your good leg. Coaxing your metal leg to follow suit, you gasp at the pain. Biting your lip, you forge on slowly. You’ve only been downstairs a few times now; it’s so much work to traverse the stairs. You almost fall twice, only your iron grip on the railing keeping you upright.

You are exhausted when you finally make it. Your new leg is so heavy, and moving it with any attention to detail is painful. Finding Equius in the dining room, you pull out a chair by the table and slump into it. “What’s going on,” you repeat.

Still he is hastily tidying up. “I have a guest- a client. Well, she’s an old friend, and she requires my services, er, my knowledge in robotics. I need a fresh towel,” he informs you, clearly flustered. He opens a cupboard and pulls out towels- who keeps bath towels in their kitchen or dining room?

“When she gets here, you can’t be sitting at a table.”

“What? Why?” 

“It is unseemly for a pet to sit at the dinner table.”

You’re about to protest, but a hidden screen embedded in the wall comes to life to show a new troll at the front door. Curiosity has you trying to keep up with Equius as he goes to answer the doorbell. Screens follow him down the corridors letting him see just how frustrated she is after about 15 seconds of waiting.

You quickly fall behind, but you catch up enough to be able to see the entrance as he lets her in.

“Really Equius, you’d think with all your robots, you’d make one to answer the door. I was waiting forever!” Her long hair is tied back loosely, just enough to keep out of the eyes- er, you realize she has a patch over one. Her stiff leather jacket would look in place on space pirate crew. Interestingly, her left arm is exposed with a cutoff sleeve.

That very arm glints in the light and you realize she’s like you. She has a prosthetic, too! Hers is limp and sways as she theatrically speaks with her whole body. It must be broken. That must be the help that Equius spoke of her needing.

You are kind of staring in awe. She seems so confident in the very way she exists. Everything from her leading him through his own house to the way she winks at you as she passes you is filled with self-assurance. Equius sends you a glare like you’re interrupting as you try and follow.

He never actually says you can’t come though, so you continue to shuffle along after them. You’re out of breath -damn stairs- when they reach the lab. It’s the lab he uses mostly for building robots and where all of your surgeries for your prosthetic took place. Makes sense, you suppose. You sit off in the corner, which only grabs Equius’ attention for a second before she starts speaking.

“Still haven’t gotten rid of your love for creepy decor, huh?” She taunts.

Pursing his lips, Equius responds,” No, you are quite aware that this is what I ended up making my career out of. I cannot simply leave it by the roadside.”

“Well, you _could_.”

“No, I could not.”

“You _coooooooould_.”

“Stop.”

With a coy smile, she says,” I _would_ be sad if you did, since then we wouldn’t get to spend all of this quality time together.” She sits in a chair and he takes her arm to inspect.

Flushing blue, he responds with,” You were doing such a good job. You haven’t needed a repair in a few perigees. What happened?”

“Ugh, I was looking into rekindling my kismesitude with Eridan, but that loser was not worth my time. He may have took the rejection a little hard.” 

Equius wrinkles his nose. “Why would you seek the seadweller?” He supinates her arm and checks the elbow joint with a critical gaze. Poking at various wires and nodes, her fingers perform little acrobatic exercises.

“You know law dictates we have perigees, _perigees_ , left before we legally must have a kismesis and matesprit. Even if it were a temporary relationship, I need to find soooooooomeone to bucket with if I don’t want to die.”

“You don’t have to be so lewd,” he criticizes. Clearing his throat, he asks,” So, how about a matesprit? Have you found one?”

“No,” she says with a disappointed frown. “It’s harder than I imagined.”

Raising her arm and messing with the shoulder, he suggests,”Perhaps you just have not looked in the right places.”

Oh, you can see the heavy handed hint he laid there. How does she not get it? You feel bad for him as she glosses over it. “I mean, obviously I should expand my search. Terezi recently lost her matesprit, didn’t she? Not my first choice with our history. Maybe as a kismesis, but I’m too late for that.”

“Yes,” he verifies,” but that was not what I meant.”

“Can you believe she got together with Gamzee? Who would have thought?”

Equius supports her arm so it will stay stretched out without his holding it. Moving on to small, precise adjustments, he comments,” I can’t imagine that being a healthy kismesisitude. Perhaps I should step in.”

“You just want to be in a relationship with Gamzee. You’re so transparent, it’s kind of cute.”

You aren’t quite sure what to make of her right now. You are starting to think that she is purposefully missing the point. The rest of her appointment continues with her dodging the point artfully until he finally concludes with,” Alright, Serket, that should be it. Does it feel okay?”

She stands up and flexes her arm a few times. “Yeah, it’s good as new.”

She looks back at you and you freeze. You thought you had been going mostly unnoticed until she did that. “He’s pretty cute. He’s one of those human creatures, isn’t he?”

“Uh, yes. My moirail got him for me.”

She comes over and looks down at you with a slightly curious, mostly mischievous smile. “What’s his name?”

“John, my name is John Egbert,” you answer, surprising Vriska a great deal. You realize this is probably the first time Equius has heard your name. Since he usually referred to you as human or Blue Eyes, and you are in fact human with blue eyes, you never really corrected him.

“Wow, it’s an intelligent pet,” she comments, interest lighting up in her eye.

Equius explains on your behalf,“ He used to be a test subject, so he was made to understand Alternian.” 

You don’t think you like him explaining for you.

She nods, clearly impressed, but straightens up and stretches. “It’s been real, but I have to head out.” She leans in close to Equius and pecks him on the cheek. With a wink, she says,” Thanks for the check up. I can show myself out.”

Equius sighs dramatically once she’s gone, and pinches his nose in agitation. “I really messed that up.”

Shakily getting to your feet, you want to enquire what exactly he messed up. Matesprits and Kismeses? Only perigees to find them? Or what?

Equius can guess your questions and answers,” Troll law dictates that a troll must find a matesprit and a kismesis, two kinds of lovers, before a sweep and a half passes the date they entered adult troll society… or we can be culled. I’ve been trying, but I can’t find either.” He’s twirling a finger through his hair anxiously.

“And you’re running out of time,” you conclude. “Is that what you’ve been so stressed about?”

He’s wringing his hands now, and you don’t know how to help. Approaching him with outstretched hands for a hug, Equius backs up and shouts,” No! D-don’t… I need…” You don’t believe it at first as he crouches down and jumps up, bracing his arms to literally break through the ceiling.

Covering your eyes from the metal debris, you call out after him. You’re getting sick of not getting answers.

You put too much effort into keeping up with them before, so you can’t walk that fast as you try to find out what happened to Equius. It’s frustrating that your right leg doesn’t move the same as your left, but you are glad you can use it at all. You have a lot of time to think about this as you urge your feet one in front of the other.

The stairs are their normal shitty self, but the rest of the journey isn’t too bad, just very draining.

When you finally find Equius, he is breathing heavily and sweating profusely, surrounded by broken robots laying haphazardly all across the room. Burns litter his skin, and sparking, metal carcasses try still to inflict more. He’s crumpled in the middle of the floor, just to the side of the hole he created in escaping to this battle he orchestrated.

“Human.”

Shivers run down your spine.

You stumble up to him and put an unsure hand on his shoulder.

“It’s been on my mind every second of every day. I don’t believe I will be able to find a matesprit or kismesis.”

You see some fresh towels on a desk in the corner of the room and go and get one. Your leg starts to lock up on your way back, but you forge on and lay the towel across his shoulders. With a sure, strong hand, Equius supports you as you attempt to sit down.

“I’m sure you can find others. I mean, they’re looking too for… matesprits and kissy-” you break off, forgetting the term.

“-meses,” he fills in. Smiling sadly, he ruffles your hair. “I suppose that is true, thank you.” His hand stops as his fingers pass over where your language chip entered. Tracing the thick scar again, he gasps. “That is it! A receiver chip would let me pass on control to… why haven’t I before… I’ve got it!”

Engulfing both your shoulders in his massive hands, he ecstatically exclaims,” Thank you, John! I know what I can do now.”

That is the first time he has ever said your name, you note. Confused how you helped, but happy to do so, you smile and say,” Anytime.”

He rushes off to draw some blueprints or something, but you just sink back and take an impromptu nap amidst all this destruction. You are so exhausted that you could probably sleep for hours.


End file.
